My Fair Lady (of Paris)
by Ikabi
Summary: "Marinette, the Notre Dame. It's burning."


Marinette squints as she quickly works the thread through the eye of the needle. There's still a few hours of sunlight left, and she wants to get some work done (yes!) before going on patrol (meh) and finishing her homework (blargh!). She hums a tune - an old English children's song she remembers learning in her earlier childhood, something about a bridge in London - as she adjusts the half-finished dress over her mannequin, pins and chalk on hand. An hour or so passes before Tikki interrupts, carrying Marinette's cellphone.

"Marinette, call for you!"

She gives a distracted nod and Tikki answers the call and puts it on speaker.

"Marinette - Marinette! _Where are you!?"_

"Hey Alya. What's up?" It comes out a little mumbled because she has pins in her mouth. Which, yes, technically that's not safe, but she only has so many hands available, and Tikki is already being super helpful by fetching pieces of fabric, retrieving buttons when they slip out of her fingers, holding the phone up for her...

"Have you seen the news?" There's a tremor in her voice, and it's not the same kind of excitement Alya usually gets when she catches sight of an Akuma.

"No. I'm working on a commission right now. I just have to cinch the waist on this dress a little more before redoing some of the stich-"

"-Never mind that!" Alya interrupts, her breath coming in short pants. There's the sound of a faint scream through the phone. "Look outside!"

"What's wrong?" Marinette stops sewing, the needle poised above the fabric. A feeling of unease works its way up her spine.

"The Notre Dame," Alya hiccups into the phone. "It's burning."

* * *

_It's not an Akuma,_ she thinks as she races down the streets. Maybe she should have transformed before dropping all of her things and bolting down the stairs, but it's too late for that now. The familiar buildings pass in a blur of hazy colors and tumultuous thoughts; the sound of her frantic heartbeat drowns out everything else. She doesn't remember grabbing her purse or making sure that Tikki is with her. (She must be. Right?)

_How can it not be an Akuma?_

She sees the plumes of smoke before she gets anywhere near the cathedral. When the building comes into view, all she can do is stop and stare. She smells the burning wood and feels the panic of the people as they fight their way closer. The streets are chaos. Parisians and tourists alike are getting out of cars and taxis and busses and staring transfixed. There is so much noise and crying and pleading and shouting and, and...

There are tears running down her face, and she can't even articulate why.

It's horrible.

* * *

Somehow, Alya finds her despite the confusion and crowds and chaos.

"How can the cathedral be burning?" she asks. "I thought it was made of stone?"

"There's wood in the support rafters," Marinette replies, thinking back to what she had seen earlier that month when she had been out on patrol and had needed a moment to unwind hidden from public view. "Renovations - there's scaffolding all along the attic to help maintain structural integrity. It's all very old and very flammable."

They stare some more as the tongues of flame lick higher and higher. They're afraid that if they look away, the whole thing will burn down.

"Alya, I need to go," Marinette says as she tries to slip away. The people jostle around her.

Alya tries to grab on to her. "Go? Go where? Marinette, where are y-"

But she is already gone.

* * *

"Tikki, Spots On!"

A flash of red light.

* * *

"Lucky Charm!"

Her yo-yo flashes and a fireman's hose falls into her hands. The tower looks like a beacon of unholy light… like hellfire.

_Isn't there a song about this?_

"Ladybug, don't!"

Marinette skids to a halt, her weight thrown by the heavy hose and she takes a few seconds to regain her balance. A man in blue runs toward her, his hands waving frantically.

"Water will just make it worse!"

"Wha-"

"Adding water will weaken the walls and cause the whole thing to collapse," the fireman explains, shouting over the roar of flames. "The fire has also damaged the stone and melted the metal, making the structure extremely brittle."

Marinette looks back at the tower, feeling utterly helpless and hating it. "What can I do?"

"For now? Evacuate the people. We're also trying to save the art."

"I can do that!" comes a shout. Chat Noir springs forward, his baton held in securely in both hands as he vaults through the open doors.

Marinette nods to the fireman.

"Let me try something. I'll be right back."

* * *

In another alleyway:

"Miraculous Ladybug!"

Nothing happens.

* * *

The central spire collapses. Not too long after, so does The Forest roof.

_(-idge is falling down, falling down…)_

For the first time, the Ladyblog posts a video that has nothing to do with Ladybug, Chat Noir, or Akuma.

_(...my fair lady.)_

* * *

"Chat."

"My Lady."

There's ash in the air, covering the rooftops with a fine layer of grey soot, and the two heroes watch helplessly as the fire roars higher. Billows of dark clouds cover the sky as the the sunset stains only the very furthest clouds in pinks and orange. There are people still on the streets, on the hills around the Seine, and some even on top of roofs, watching.

_(-ng around the rosie...)_

"The people are all out. Any luck on your end?"

Marinette is having a hard time breathing, and only part of it is due to the pollution.

"I can't- I tried- My miraculous…"

_(... ashes, ashes...)_

_We can't fight… __this__._

"Chat, what do we _do?_"

She sees Chat Noir clench his fists tighter, his ears drooping as his shoulders curl inward.

"I... I don't know..."

He lifts his head and locks his gaze with Marinette, determined.

"... but we have to try."

She gives him a watery smile.

"Let's go, then."

* * *

She's one of the first people who get a look inside the cathedral when the flames are contained. The ceiling is still on fire and it seems like the heavens are burning. Eerie flickers of light bounce from the rafters as the fire brigade continues to clear the area and transport more priceless artifacts out of the building.

_(Dies irae, dies illa)_

The walls are scorched, some of the stone statues have melted, and several of the pews have been reduced to ash.

She can't even see the South Rose window.

_(solvet saeculum in favilla...)_

She and Chat help save a lot of the artwork, but so much of it is just… gone. In the face of such devastation, her efforts don't seem like they measure up to much at all. It's hours later that she manages to stumble away, her face almost the same color as her hair. Chat fares no better, his green eyes blinking in exhaustion. There's hardly any energy left to breathe, let alone banter.

They part ways when paramedics force them to go home, _or else_. They know they need to rest, too, but there's still so much more work to be done.

* * *

_(Je vous salue, Marie pleine de grâce...)_

Marinette hears the faint sound of far-off singing. Its familiar words and tune sound like a lament, like a plea. It stirs at her heart in the face of such tragedy. The music grows louder as more voices join in.

"Tikki…"

The little kwami hovers overhead while Marinette stares at her wall. Her pillow is scrunched into a shapeless lump against her chest. Her hair is leaving a wet mess behind; she's too tired to dry it out properly and too tired to care that the towel is hopelessly stained with soot. She's used up what seems like half of her shampoo and soap in the last half hour.

_(...Sainte Marie, Mère de Dieu...)_

"Why?"

_Why didn't my Miraculous Ladybug work? Why can't I fix this?_

Tikki hesitates before drifting closer.

"Marinette… sometimes…"

She squeezes the pillow closer, burying her face as her tears quietly slip down and soak into the fabric.

_(...maintenant et à l'heure de notre mort.)_

"Sometimes there's nothing left to fix."

(Her skin still smells like smoke.)

* * *

The next day, Marinette watches her classmates sit solemnly through classes, going through the motions of school when their minds are really elsewhere. Everyone has been affected, especially those who had been close enough to the Notre Dame to see part of the fire and wreckage. Tellingly, Mlle Bustier doesn't chide the students for their inattention, even when they are supposed to be reviewing for a test later on this week.

The news stations are constantly talking about it. Every ten minutes, the news anchors are showing pictures and videos and testimonies and statistics and updates. It's enough that Marinette walks past the televisions that are blaring from what seems like every store front and open window.

But it's not just the pictures and videos and updates. There are also angry people, hurt people, shocked people who are looking for someone to blame.

"Where was Ladybug?"

"-till shocked that it was happening. I didn't notic-"

_This reminds me of a song..._

"-ast night's terrible tragedy, Ladybug was spotted-"

"There was so much ash, it looked like snow was fallin-"

"-don't see why she was able to help with the evacuation efforts, but not the fire itse-"

"-wasn't there when the tower fell down-"

_...a song about angry men..._

"Was this caused by an Akuma?"

"Why didn't she fix this?"

She's sick of it.

* * *

She must have missed it when it had first aired, but Marinette finds a recording of the President's speech. She watches it a second, third, fourth time until his words echo in her heart and she feels hope flutter in her chest.

At this moment, there's nothing more she can do to help the fire brigade. But the people of Paris don't rely just on their heroes' actions. Sometimes, there's a time and place for words, too.

_Thank you, Stoneheart, for that lesson. I'd forgotten._

"Tikki, Spots On."

* * *

"Kid."

"Mmph?"

"Call for you."

Adrien tears his eyes away from his computer screen, which has multiple windows and tabs of news stations streaming. He looks at his phone, which is decidedly silent.

"No. Other you."

"Oh." Adrien blinks. "_Oh!"_ He scrambles out of his chair, doing an impressive (accidental) somersault as it tips backwards and slams against the floor before commanding Plagg to transform him.

"Chat."

"My Lady?"

"We need to talk."

* * *

The Ladyblog posts a new video that evening. Unlike previous videos, it is neither exciting nor upbeat. Instead, Ladybug and Chat Noir are sitting side-by-side and the lighting is somber, their voices solemn.

Marinette begins the podcast (it's not really an interview - Alya isn't asking any questions this time) by highlighting a few of the events in the last twenty-four hours. Even though this is her idea, her thoughts feel scattered; her words come out disjointed and she worries that she sounds insincere.

She says something along the lines of: _Yes, we've just suffered a terrible tragedy. And yes, we have suffered terrible things in the past, too. This is a time to mourn what we have lost, but also a time to band together as one people. We are fortunate that the Bell towers were saved, as well as the twelve copper statutes of disciples (which had previously been removed for renovations)._

She continues for a few more sentences before she runs out of things to say.

Chat takes over with a sense of fervor, saying, "But we are Parisians! The Notre Dame has survived the Revolution, two World Wars, and countless other trials, and we can, too!"

Marinette listens with half an ear, thinking about all the things that have been lost. She adds a few more comments here and there, completing Chat's thoughts and he, hers. Chat's optimism is heartening to see, and she knows in her heart that this is not the end. Even though the Notre Dame has sustained a lot of damage, it still stands. There is still hope.

"-now is the time to come together and be good neighbors. Not tear each other down. Not blame anyone else."

"Now is the time to be proud people of the city and help each other _rebuild._"

Chat pauses for a brief moment and stares into the camera lenses. He slowly raises a fist, points it towards his invisible audience as if in a solemn salute and utters:

"I believe in you. We can overcome this."

Marinette puts a gloved hand over Chat's.

"_We_ believe in you."

* * *

The next day, Marinette goes to school and sees her classmates sitting up just a little bit taller. There's the sense of unity, of people putting aside their differences in favor of working on a solution to a common problem. There are several projects to help the workers who are still on scene, assessing the damage. There are several other projects to raise money that would eventually go towards a fund to help restore the Notre Dame. Chloe declares that she would be dedicating part of her pocket money to pay for stained glass. Nathaniel starts working on a concept piece for a mural to donate to the cause. Alya is itching to interview eyewitnesses to piece together a more comprehensive story, but seems to be showing more tact and restraint after yesterday's post.

Everywhere she looks, she sees people being kinder, more gracious than they have been in their previous daily lives. There's a cafe that opened its doors for service dogs to help individuals in need. Several bands set up along the streets, playing songs of lament and healing. Volunteers from across the continent fly, drive, bus in to begin work on salvaging what remains.

When Marinette arrives home, it's to see her father putting together several baskets of bread and food, saying, "The workers need something to eat, after all! Would you be a dear and help me take this over?"

Marinette's heart feels full. At least for the moment, the people here have no place for Papillon's butterflies.

* * *

And for the next few weeks, there are no Akuma attacks.

_la fin_

* * *

**Author's Notes:** (Beware, long author's note is long.)

Well, I haven't written anything in the last… six years. I hope my writing isn't too rusty. My excuse? … I… got lost on the road of life…? (And I still have about 30 minutes left of April 15, 2019, so I'm ridiculously pleased that I was able to churn this out before the date changed in my timezone.)

I heard about the spire of Notre Dame catching fire right before work started this morning. I was horrified and saddened all at once. I spent the drive home listening to news stations sporadically talk about what was going on, and this idea came to mind. My heart hurt the entire time. And if this is how I felt halfway around the world, what about the people who are there in person, watching this historic monument go up in flames?

Coincidentally a few days ago, I had been talking with _kuraby_ about the Notre Dame, Victor Hugo's novel, the Disney adaptation, and the supposed true events they were based on. This talk also had me thinking about fictional characters and how they reacted in dramatic scenes, versus real people and how _they _would have reacted.

I remember what happened and how I felt during several traumatic/tragic moments in my life, and I wanted to capture just a little bit of the feelings/thought processes I went through. I post this story with the hope that it can provide a little bit of closure or catharsis for those who have also been hit by a traumatic event. It's not much and I feel like I haven't done it justice, but I can only do my best.

The title comes from the last line of the children's song, "London Bridge is Falling Down," (_not_ the film or the stage musical, "My Fair Lady."). I couldn't get the tune out of my head. Even though the melody sounds cheerful enough, there's a lot of room for interpretation (and so much history/debate). Also… So. Many. Songs. I threw in references to too many things because my life revolves around music. To the best of my knowledge, all lyrics included are public domain (and thereby not violating content guidelines). If people are interested, I can edit the A/N and include a list of songs I was thinking about while writing.

The Notre Dame is also known as The Lady of Paris. I couldn't help myself.

Please keep in mind that this is the first time I'm writing for this series; also, I have not watched any of _Miraculous_, but I have heard _kuraby_ talk about the series. Any mistakes are either my own, from cultural differences, or from not being familiar with the source material. I am also making up what happens in the aftermath, since at the time of posting this story the fire is only contained (and not put out).

**TL;DR** \- Dedicated to _kuraby_, who is a Miraculous fan, and all the people who witnessed and are/were affected by the events of April 15th, 2019 in Paris.


End file.
